


Bad Secrets

by bravinto



Category: Daredevil (TV), Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Secrets, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto
Summary: The mood is light, flirtatious, promising. Luke backs Foggy against the wall in a darker corner of the street and swallows the beginning of a startled yelp off his lips. They stand there for a while, kissing slowly but hungrily. Then, a metallic noise echoes from somewhere above, Foggy tenses and jerks, and things start happening very quickly.

 
 Daredevil crashing your date is never a good sign





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for my Bingo card, "the devil you know" square. My first one! :D  
> I also claim The Devil’s October Challenge!
> 
> this fic was kindly beta-read by sublime42 <33

Luke pulls the hat lower onto his ears against the October night chill. It’s windy, in that exciting way windy nights sometimes are, a little scary but also very thrilling, as if you are going on a journey somewhere. The street signs and lamps are swaying above. It’s late, and Luke and Foggy are walking home together.

 Foggy is laughing at his own joke too much to even finish it, and Luke laughs, too, even though he is pretty sure he won’t ever hear the punchline. The mood is light, flirtatious, promising. The sort of mood when you know you’ll come home and have a _really_ nice, memorable night together. _If_ they ever get home - Foggy keeps stopping to tell him funny stories, voices and all; and to give him warm, eager touches where he sticks his cold hands under Luke’s coat.

 “I swear, Nelson, I will hoist you over my shoulder and carry you.”

 “Don’t you dare, mister,” Foggy says, his voice grim, but his eyes are laughing. “You try that, and I will scream. I’m really good at it. Which variety do you prefer: high-pitched piggy shriek or wounded seal wail?”

 “Will you really?”

 “Wanna bet?”

 Foggy is teasing him, prompting him to pick him up, because for some reason he loves it. (“What is it with you and being carried around?” Luke asked him one time after Foggy happily jumped up into his arms for the fifth time. “This is new, okay?” Foggy replied. “Nobody ever carries me. Let the man live, I just wanna feel important.”). It doesn’t mean he won’t deliver on his promise, so instead Luke backs him against the wall in a darker corner of the street and swallows the beginning of a startled yelp off his lips. They stand there for a while, kissing slowly but hungrily. Then, a metallic noise echoes from somewhere above, Foggy tenses and jerks, and things start happening very quickly.

 A shadow drops from out of nowhere, mere feet away from them. Luke turns around, steps forward, takes a firm stand, shielding Foggy with his body. Foggy says it’s cool when he does that, Luke thinks it’s routine; they both agree it’s common sense.

 The intruder straightens, a figure dressed in crimson and black, just like on the grainy footage and pictures in the papers. Tense, determined, fighting stance. Horns.

 “Step away from him,” Daredevil commands in a low, snarly voice.

 Not gonna happen.

 “This is not Hell’s Kitchen, Daredevil” Luke says. He doesn’t snarl. But he knows the look on his face must make it clear to anyone with eyes that he means business. “Go away.”

The devil opens his mouth, but suddenly Foggy steps around Luke, mindless of the neutral zone he has established, as if he’s not facing one of the most wanted men in New York. As if he’s not afraid of the vigilante who is known to leave a trail of broken, barely breathing bodies in his wake.

 “Oh, Daredevil, wow,” Foggy says, and his voice is ringing with an unfamiliar burning quality. “Nice to finally meet you. Huh.”

Foggy keeps walking, and Luke just stares.

“Listen, this is none of your business. Leave my private life alone,” and there’s a weird stress on ‘private’ that Luke cannot quite place. “Just back off, okay!”

He steps forward again, and Luke can’t believe his eyes. The fabled Daredevil falters and staggers back. Luke stands, rooted to his spot, watching the scene unfold. It’s mind boggling. The thing is, it is not Foggy being brave. Luke has seen Foggy talk down bar brawls and reason with gangsters as mad as rabid dogs. It’s not like that. Luke can tell, Foggy is angry, maybe even unreasonably so, trembling with some unnamed emotion, but it’s not bravery. He’s just. Not. Afraid.

Daredevil’s jaw works several times, as if he wants to respond, but cannot find his words. Luke wonders idly, why the big D went to all the trouble covering his face, but left the lower half open. White guy, brown beard; he’d make it harder to profile him if he went with a full mask.

“You said you were going to scream if he touched you,” Daredevil finally manages.

 It sounds lame. Luke has a gnawing feeling that there is something more going on here.

Foggy snorts unpleasantly.

 “Not what I said. Also, not meant for anyone’s ears, but his,” Foggy says, then sighs. “So, thanks for the offer, and all, but no crime is going on here except those applicable to you. Just… leave, okay?”

 This must be not the first time Foggy meets Daredevil. It occurs to Luke that he might even know his identity. Now, that’s a dangerous secret to keep. The thought weighs heavy, uneasy at the bottom of Luke’s stomach. This thing with Foggy was all supposed to be about honesty and simplicity, and yet once again he has stepped into a bog full of secrets.

 Daredevil huffs defiantly, and Luke finally finds his tongue to add:

 “You heard him.”

 The Devil lingers for a moment, then steps back into the shadows and leaps up without a word, clangs the metal bars of a fire escape and vanishes in the darkness.

 “What was that all about?” Luke asks Foggy once they are alone, but Foggy just grabs his hand, says “Ugh!” and pulls him away, in the direction of Luke’s place, no unnecessary stops or distractions now.

 

Luke tries to talk to him on the way, but only gets angry huffs and unfinished sentences in response. The mood seems to be ruined for good, all flirting forgotten, but when they close the door behind them, Foggy pulls him down into a raw kiss. He scrapes bites against Luke’s lips, like he wants to break his teeth.

They stumble into bed; it’s frantic, too rough and not how they usually do this. Foggy rides him like he needs it - and Luke needs this, too, to burn away the ugly feeling that’s nestled under his ribs. Tonight they fuck hard. Tonight they fuck like people with bad secrets.

 

Afterwards they lie side by side, and the silence stretches and stretches. Eventually Foggy turns to him and says:

 “Sorry.”

 “What for?”

 “Eh,” Foggy sighs and scratches his nose. “All of the above? It was supposed to be a good night, but things went sideways, and I overreacted.”

 Luke turns to face him, too, and asks the question that’s been on his mind this whole night:

 “Foggy, do you know Daredevil?”

 For the longest time Foggy just looks at him, shifting his gaze between his eyes, and says nothing. In the quiet things start to arrange themselves into a pattern: “I just invested too much into this thing with someone, and it blew up in my face,” Foggy told him one night, when they reached the obligatory confession stage. Then, the news and the papers, and how Foggy is always reading the vigilante beat. Fisk, too, taken down by Daredevil, and brought to justice by Nelson and Murdock. It seems like for a while Daredevil and Foggy’s ex-law practice walked parallel. And now, just a year later, he works for a big corporate law firm and resents Daredevil. It’s far from clear, and Luke is neither a private investigator, nor a police detective, but if this is what he thinks this is, he really doesn’t envy Foggy.

 “Don’t answer that,” he says.

 “Thank you,” Foggy says with too much relief, reaches out and pulls them close into an embrace.

 “I’m just afraid one day someone will beat this out of me,” Foggy whispers into Luke’s chest, as if he is confessing his biggest and most shameful secret.

 Luke hates it.

 “Not on my watch,” he says firmly.

 They stay like that for a long while, just holding each other in the dark. The street lights are still swaying, rattling outside, and someone is crying in the wind.


End file.
